(This picture came up when I was searching Google Images for "really slow progress," and I found it hilarious. What it technically represents is how few of these little critters the person has made for an upcoming craft fair or something . . . but I interpreted it as the really slow progress of li'l red guy in his efforts to distance himself from the others, so slow that no one even noticed, until — look! He's all the way over here! Go, li'l red guy!)
(Also, I kinda stole this picture, 'cause the chick who took it doesn't want people downloading her stuff. I had to pull all sorts of shenanigans just to get this, which is why it's blurry — I'm magnifying a little thumbnail, the only image I could successfully grab. But I had to have it, c'mon! Li'l red guy — mon semblable, mon frère. )
I got through yesterday subsisting on the world's blandest meal: chicken broth, applesauce, plain toast, banana, peppermint tea. The box says I'm allotted four generic Immodium in a 24-hour period, and within three hours I'd taken three. Things were not looking good.
At 9 p.m. last evening, two things were very present in my mind:
- Immodium was my last hope, and it doesn't seem to be working for me.
- Thank GOD Starbuck's has a private restroom.
But I made it through the night, and this morning I had a relatively LARGE breakfast (oh I was so hungry) of TWO pieces of plain toast (are you salivating?) and a banana and two cups of tea . . . and by noon it was all still sitting pretty well, and I began to have hope of recovery.
Except: I am EXHAUSTED. A week of poo-ing, retaining little food, and ingesting almost no protein (plus getting up all night to visit potty) is not the path to vim and vigor, my friends! I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. But I had a million errands to run, plus work, so I dragged myself to the car, dragged myself through my errands, and then dully contemplated the dull lunch I would fix myself.
But then I thought: Hey! Chicken broth and rice and tea . . . I know a place that makes that! And I sailed in to Jade Garden with a smile on my face. The server seemed a tad perplexed that I only wanted soup** and plain rice, but she served it graciously, and I dined like a queen. A queen who can digest her food properly, no less! I was so smug!!
And because I was there, I decided to make a big play for Mother of the Year and bring home some crab rangoons and Peking ravioli for my children's after-school snack, because I am all about buying their love with greasy salty food from other cultures!
And then . . . I got cocky. And the crab rangoons smelled so good. And despite my "filling" and "satisfying" lunch of broth and tea and plain rice, I was still somehow "unsatisfied." So I ate a crab rangoon.
* * * * *
(Details of the horror show that followed have been omitted, because, ew.)
So, I've paid the piper. Oh, well. I took Immodium #4, and the 24-hour clock just reset anyway, so — onward!
In the better news department, I now have an array of lovely gifts for my friend, plus I found something for my mom (whose birthday is in two weeks, but one thing at a time), and I'm just about done with her game.
My heinous zit is also progressing, though it's still hideous. It's got an awful scabby texture now like lava rock. I am keeping my fingers away from it and will simply continue to cleanse, treat, and pray.
I need to pick up Martini and friends at 5:30 and I will grab an easy dinner for the kids while I'm out — and then it's bath and bed for this girl. I plan to sleep for 20 hours. I will be well for the party!!!
** Honesty compels me to mention that it wasn't chicken soup, it was . . . pork and pickle soup. And I didn't tell you at first because I knew you'd get that look, now, stop it. It's a very simple soup with a clear broth and a lovely flavor — and pork is the other white meat! And I was fine until the rangoon! So, hush.